24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
She had her flaws,
She expected him to change
She was stubborn, controlling and demanding..
He had his fair share of flaws,
he expected her to change
Clumsy, pig headed and a hypocrite.
Their marriage failed.
-Janice Raquela Mendonca
She was childless
as a fern is flowerless.
But she loved babies.
He was a Casanova
and proud as a peacock.
But he hated lullabies.
Though, they met one day on comprimises’ bridge. (more…)
The keys, some are white;
Black, the others be.
Major combinations.
Some like their music loud;
Others soft and tender.
Jazz, rock, country twang
…All in tune, with me.
A verdant meadow flush with bluebonnets
rushes by under their tiny feet.
The smaller one points and cries joyously,
and the elder squeals with delight,
and both run toward a fluttering gem.
A black and yellow glory
chased by two giggling pixies
in the warm Texas Spring.
I know that in days or weeks,
Nature will bury this field of joys
with a carpet of spikes and stings.
In weeks or months, the butterfly,
the insect they chase will die,
perhaps mating first, perhaps not.
In years, my children will grow,
and their smiles will sadden,
under weight of wisdom and years.
But this day, Texas is green and kind.
This hour, the butterfly swoops and bounces
like a fairy child at play.
This minute, my daughters know only laughter.
This moment, time loses.
Sevenling
We spent years looking for the perfect house –
200 years old, wide pine floors, walk-in fireplace
with huge central chimney, beech tree, and space for gardens.
We lived longest in an angular house, modern
with high ceilings in odd places, lots of windows
but too many bathrooms, and space for the kids to grow.
I can’t wait to move to my small cottage, alone.
Two directions traversed at once
the map folded in half
and deliberately marked
Signposts conspicuously absent
the face of the compass blank
with the needle missing
This is quite a journey
(22 June 2019, Hour Eight)
Ripe plums,
a neighbor’s gift,
and all I can think of
is what do I do with these things.
Eat them?
it is a pulse of light
a twinkle in the night
a fairy spark full of magic
it is a creepy-crawly
a six-legged beastie
a bug
it is a firefly
The stars were once bright spots
But now they are spots of fire
Burning all that they touch
Once full of stories
Now full of horrors
We don’t name them for our gods now
But of poisons and death
The stars shine for pain now
No linger for beauty
I wasn’t feeling the form prompt so I looked through Pinterest instead.
…And I lied down
I came down
For a spin, a jig
And a rhapsody
I drew the strings
The canes, the blinds
The bedspread neat
…and lied down quietly
Hour 8